Absolution
by desrm
Summary: “I don’t know how you expect me to survive watching you pledge forever to someone who isn’t me." LP. My take on the 5.12 wedding.


So, I feel like I've been writing so much fluff lately! Not that there's anything wrong with that, but a girl needs a little diversity. And so I wrote this: my take on the dreaded Lucas/Lindsey wedding. It's been done before but I couldn't get this out of my head. Hopefully you enjoy it!

Thank you to the band Muse for the title… and for being so incredibly awesome.

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"I can't do this…" the words are whispered erratically under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair in agitation. The other clutches his shirt to his chest, trying anything to slow the frantic beat of his heart. He's pacing because he knows that if his legs stop their movement, they'll immediately give out beneath him.

On the other side of the wall of his dressing room, people are starting to gather for the occasion- people who are all waiting for him to get married today. Somewhere, a woman is waiting to become his wife.

"No, I _can_ do this." His head shakes as he ineffectually tries to sweep his doubt from his mind. He sighs heavily at the fact that his unease remains painfully intact in the pit of his stomach. "I need air." He grumbles before making his way to the closest door leading outside.

Meanwhile, Peyton violently jolts her car to a stop and shifts it into park, meeting Brooke's glance from the passenger seat with a sheepish shrug. She finds her gripping the dashboard as if her life is dependant on it, her mouth hanging open in outrage. If Peyton had the strength to laugh, she would.

But she doesn't have the strength. Not today.

"I can do this, right?" She whispers, the tremor in her voice making it nearly impossible to hear her. She apprehensively eyes the church before them.

"Yes, Honey. You can." Brooke soothes, relaxing her stance to place a hand on her best friend's shoulder. "You're going to go into that church because you can get through this."

Peyton ever so slightly nods her head and, with heavy movements, steps from her car and makes her way to the church entrance. Just before she's about to make her final step into her own personal hell, her eye catches a white figure flitting in her peripheral vision. She turns and feels an invisible blow hit her in the chest. She suppresses the urge to stagger backwards.

Lindsey is coming out of a very pricey rental limousine, decked in an elegant bridal gown that makes Peyton's throat tighten just a little more. She notices the blissful smile on the woman's face, clearly showing how ready she is to become a Scott.

Peyton can't help the bitter thought of how Lucas' last name coupled with her first is infinitely better to her than horrid taste of the syllables _Lindsey Scott_ on her tongue.

She heaves a sigh. It's the best possible alternative to the intensely loud groan of exasperation she's so desperate to really let out.

"I can't do this." She mutters, stumbling away from the door as fast as her shaking limbs can take her. Brooke anxiously calls after her but she keeps walking. "Don't worry. I just need to find somewhere where I can breathe."

She's just not sure that there's such a place left in the world for her.

Mere seconds pass until she finds a small set of stairs leading to the back door of the church and roughly takes a seat on them. She buries her head in her hands and fights to gain control of her breathing and the turbulent pounding of her heart.

It's only a moment later when the door behind her opens and a distraught Lucas steps out of it. He immediately sees her sitting there with her back facing him. Her shoulders tremble noticeably and he can tell that she's crying.

"Peyton." He murmurs.

As soon as his voice carries itself to her ears, her entire body stiffens. Of all the people in the world who could find her there, he's the one to do it. She curses the skies or whoever is listening.

Hesitantly, he comes to sit next to her and reaches out in attempt to soothe her. Before he can even touch her, she quickly slaps his hand away in irritation.

"Don't." She snaps. "Just don't."

"Peyton, what-"

"How…" She whimpers before swallowing the lump in her throat and slowly letting the fury within her begin to release itself. She finally meets his soft gaze, but the concern and sympathy in his eyes doesn't faze her in the slightest. "Lucas, how can you think I can walk in there and watch you get married?" she shrieks, making him pull back a little. "Let me ask you something. If the tables were reversed, could you do it? Would you?"

He knows the answer to that question but as he opens his mouth, no sound comes from it. She bitterly shakes her head and stubbornly blinks back her urge to cry.

"Don't even bother answering. It doesn't matter." Her hands roughly wipe her cheeks to rid them of the last glistening traces of tears. She stands, facing him, and crosses her arms over her chest. "I don't know how you expect me to survive watching you pledge forever to someone who _isn't me_… Have a lifetime of happiness Luke." She gives him a scathing stare of finality before turning on her heel and walking away from him.

It takes every fiber of resistance in his being to fight the urge to follow her fleeting form.

Just as she falls out of his line of vision, the door opens once again and he shifts his gaze to see his brother looking down at him with a furrowed brow.

"Ready to marry Lindsey, big brother?" Nathan says with a small smile.

With one last glance at the spot to which Peyton had retreated, Lucas rises from his sitting position and walks back inside.

"About as ready as I'm gonna get." He says.

The moments between his preparation and the time he makes his way to the altar pass in a blur. He's finding it hard to focus on anything but controlling the overpowering and increasingly merciless waves of nausea that are hitting him each second.

The many pairs of eyes on him make him feel suddenly exposed, as if they can all see straight through him and to the internal turmoil he's feeling.

As the wedding march plays loudly through the church, he doesn't hear it. He watches Lindsey slowly make her way down the aisle towards him, but he's not really seeing her. And as she stands in front of him, he reaches out a hand and she gladly takes it- but he doesn't feel the warmth of her touch.

The preacher begins to speak and Lucas forces himself to look Lindsey in the eyes. Unwillingly, he wishes that her orbs were a soulful shade of green. He tries to subtly shake the thought from his head. He wills himself to remember the promise he's making to the woman before him. She loves him. And he loves her... he does.

But the thought sounds more like a mantra than an honest statement at this point.

He pulls himself from his daze as he realizes her brow is starting to arch in speculation. He wants to be able to smile warmly at her in comfort but all he can manage to do is purse his lips.

"Lucas Eugene Scott…" the preacher says, "do you take Lindsey Evelyn Strauss to be your lawfully wedded wife?" Again, voices fade to the background as Lucas loses himself in a panic. For the first time, he lets his eyes survey the room. His breath hitches as he finds the spot next to Brooke, surely meant for Peyton, completely empty. "... 'til death do you part?" he hears the preacher finish.

"I…" he trails off. The answer should be simple… he longs to be able to say the word _do_. Two letters, one syllable- such an easy way to seal his future. His gaze involuntary falls back to Peyton's empty seat and suddenly, he feels empty.

He's a lost boy who's once again watched his comet streak across the sky, away from his life.

The magnitude of what he's about to do settles within him and his eyes flutter closed in response. Gently, he lets his hand fall from Lindsey's to come rest at his side.

"I'm sorry. I just… I can't." He whispers, guilt feeling like a sudden, rampant disease flooding his body from his stomach to the tips of his fingers and toes. Though he can't bring himself to look at her face, he is sure of the horrified, pain-filled features he would be met with if he could.

With one last quiet apology he turns and sprints straight down the aisle and through the church doors.

A mere hour later, Brooke opens the door to her home to find a shaken Peyton curled up on their couch, hugging yet another copy of _An Unkindness of Ravens_ tightly to her chest. She strolls over to her distraught best friend to sit next to her. Her hand pats Peyton's thigh before she reaches forward to brush her blonde hair from her face and wipe the trails of tears from her skin.

Peyton's gaze is fixated in front of her, cold and unmoving. Brooke purses her lips in silent sympathy and sighs before offering a last ray of hope.

"He didn't do it." She whispers.

The trance that Peyton has been in for quite some time is effectively broken and her face is swept with a shocked and confused expression. Somewhere within her, she feels a spark that sends signals to every pore and fiber in her body. The once dead flame in her eyes flickers and ignites with newfound emotion.

It isn't long before she's jumping off the couch and bolting out the front door.

She knows exactly where to find him at a time like this- not that it's a big secret- but she has always known him better than anyone else.

It's no surprise when she finds him standing in the middle of the river court, still wearing his tuxedo, with his hands in his pockets as he stares at the basket in front of him.

Her steady walking turns to tentative steps as she approaches him, unsure of the emotions that may be coursing through him. He knows she's there but he doesn't meet her eyes. He looks down at the pavement, almost as if in shame.

"You're not married…" she utters, standing a safe distance from him. He says nothing but gives her a simple nod of his head. The situation is almost too much for her to take. She needs to know if everything she's ever dreamed of is attainable, or if this is just another cruel setback designed to give her hope and tear it away- leaving a gaping hole in her chest where her heart used to be. She has to know. "Why?"

An agonizingly long moment passes before their eyes meet. For the first time in months… _years_, they feel like they can finally breathe. With fresh air in his lungs, he knows that he can finally speak.

"I wrote a second novel... It's about a boy and a comet."

It's something, but definitely not what she was expecting. Quite frankly, she's thoroughly confused.

"Why are you telling me this?"

He shrugs lamely and takes a step towards her, leaving them just inches apart. Their bodies go into alert. The proximity, which they've been longing to feel for too long, sends their senses into a frenzy. It's everything she can do not to pull him in by the collar of his shirt and kiss him until neither of them can breathe.

He sighs, making her skin tingle when he cups her face with the palm of his hand.

"Because you're the comet." He whispers vehemently. Still, she's perplexed but she remains silent, bringing her hand to rest on his: effectively holding it to her face. She never wants to feel the loss of his touch again. He smiles warmly at her motions and continues. "Peyton… I'm so sorry. For everything. God, I've made a mess of it all."

She wants to yell at him again, she really does… maybe even slap him once or twice. He needs to be told that a simple apology isn't going to take away the months of searing agony she had to endure.

The problem is that he's looking at her with those eyes. His crystal blues are sparkling in the way she _knows_ has always been reserved for only her. She can't yell at him when his gaze is steadily making her blood run warmer and her heart melt down into her stomach.

Instead, she throws her arms around his neck and clings to him desperately. She buries her face in his chest and lets emotion unravel from within her. Sobs wrack her entire body and he holds her tightly, murmuring comforting words into her ear. Tears soak through his shirt as she whimpers.

This is her way of letting go of every moment of pain he's caused her.

"Peyton." Tears flood the brim of his eyelids as he releases strangled words. "I'm sorry." He presses his lips tenderly to her temple. "I'm so sorry." He doesn't care how much he has to repeat it; he'll keep going as long as it takes. Their noses graze as he pulls away just enough to let their foreheads come to rest against each other. Their eyes meet again, blue colliding with green. "I love you. God, I love you."

There it is. That's all she needs to hear.

"I love you." She echoes breathlessly before crashing her lips to his. His arms wrap tightly around her waist and her hands clench his shirt. The kiss is soft, a gentle whisper, but somehow they manage to convey all their stifled urgency to each other.

They're forgetting failed weddings and fiancées… _ex_-fiancées. They're leaving behind impromptu proposals and years of miscommunication and pain. It's no longer about their broken past.

It's about finding absolution through the wreckage.

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Let me know what you think! It'll make my day.


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